


Holding hands

by Okaywonderful



Category: A Very Potter Musical Series - Team StarKid
Genre: Fluff, M/M, hand holding, i guess you could count this as a 5+1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okaywonderful/pseuds/Okaywonderful
Summary: Hand holding was becoming a habit of theirs, Quirrell thought strangely.  You wouldn’t hear him complaining though, he liked it, and he had the suspicion that Voldemort did too.





	Holding hands

It all started on a Saturday morning. 

Quirrell was outside tending to his garden, like he did almost everyday. After he and Voldemort moved into a tiny house in a muggle neighborhood, Quirrell had made good on that promise of planting flowers. He may not be ruling the world, but he liked this better.

Quirrell was so caught up in pulling weeds, that he almost missed the familiar body sit down beside him. Once he became aware of his boyfriend’s presence, the professor couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his face.

“What brings you out here?” Quirrell inquired happily. 

“What? Do I need a reason to come see you?” Voldemort teased.

“Of course not, but you usually don’t come see me in the garden.” Which was true. Quirrell was always at peace while gardening, and he knew Voldemort wanted to let him have time to himself.

Voldemort hummed, “I thought you looked lonely today.” 

Quirrell knew better. Voldemort only came to visit in the garden when he wanted attention. Quirrell, with a playful air in his voice said, “I think you just missed me.”

“Mhm, sure.” Voldemort rolled his eyes, but a smile bloomed on his face nonetheless.

Quirrell giggled and leaned over to kiss the ex-dark lord. It was slow and sweet, each taking time to explore the others mouth. Quirrell leaned back, but Voldemort chased his lips to capture him in another kiss. 

After they pulled apart, they sat with as little space between them as possible, their foreheads resting together. 

“Okay, maybe you were right about me missing you,” Voldemort admitted. 

Quirrell smiled, “knew it.”

Voldemort pulled back to place a kiss on top of the professor’s head. “why don’t you come in? It’s cold out.” 

It was late summer, warm enough, but there was a slight chill in the air. “It’s not that cold, I feel fine.”

“Here, let me see your hand,” Voldemort said, holding out his own. 

Quirrell placed his hand in Voldemort’s who instantly said, “You’re freezing.”

“Oh please,” Quirrell rolled his eyes, amused at his boyfriend’s antics. 

He thought Voldemort would pull his hand away, but instead he laced their fingers together. When the ex-dark lord saw him watching their joined hands curiously he shrugged, “for warmth” 

“Now come on, I’m taking you inside.” Voldemort pulled Quirrell up out of the garden and into the house. 

Voldemort held on to Quirrell’s hand much longer than it took to warm up. 

—————

“Did you pick a movie yet?” Quirrell yelled from the kitchen 

“Yeah! It’s ready whenever,” Voldemort replied. 

Friday was their movie night. It became a thing almost as soon as they had moved in together. It was Voldemort’s turn to pick the movie this week.

Quirrell finished cleaning the kitchen and moved to join his partner in the living room. Strolling in he asked, “What are we watching today?”

Voldemort smirked, “Well, I thought we’d switch it up this time.”

Quirrell eyed his boyfriend suspiciously, “I don’t like that look on your face, what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Relax squirrel, I just thought we could try something different,” Voldemort feigned innocence and motioned to the tv. 

Quirrell’s stomach dropped when he turned to see the title screen cued up. He gulped, “a s-scary movie?” 

Quirrell hated scary movies. He hated the jump scares and how they made him feel like there was something behind him for weeks. Quirrell wondered why Voldemort would pick this movie to watch, he knew Quirrell wasn’t fond of scary movies. 

“We don’t have to have to watch it if you don’t want to,” Voldemort said, his voice softening.

“N-no no, it’s okay, I’ll be fine. Besides it’s your week to pick anyway,” as much as Quirrell didn’t want to watch it, he knew his boyfriend loved scary movies, and he wanted to make Voldemort happy. 

“Are you sure?” Voldemort asked, his eyes questioning.

“Of course.”

Voldemort’s smile was totally worth whatever horror Quirrell would have to endure. 

“Alright, get over here then.” 

Quirrell sat down next to his boyfriend on the couch. His heart was already pounding. What did he get himself into?

The movie wasn’t even half way through and Quirrell had already jumped over ten times. Each time making Voldemort laugh. After a particularly bad jump scare, Quirrell ended up gripping Voldemort’s arm and hiding behind his shoulder. 

Voldemort chuckled, “here,” he said while holding out his hand. Quirrell took it gratefully. 

The rest of the movie finshed slightly easier. Quirrell let out a sigh of relief when it was over. He turned to tell his boyfriend he was never watching a scary movie again, but found Voldemort smiling softly down at their joined hands. 

Quirrell thought for a moment before squeezing Voldemort’s hand, which seemed to snap him back to reality.

“Well, what did you think?” Voldemort asked, barely holding back a laugh.

“Never again.”

The ex-dark lord burst out laughing, “oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

By this time Quirrell was laughing too, “it was too that bad.” 

They sat there for a second, laughing together before Quirrell said, “now come on, I want to go to bed and I’m sure as hell not going alone after that.”

Voldemort fell back into a laughing fit again, “okay, okay.” 

They made their way to bed together, hands locked together the entire time. 

—————

It was like a never ending stream of papers. Quirrell loved teaching, but sometimes it took a lot out of him.

The professor was sitting at the kitchen table grading paper after paper. He didn’t even give his students a lot of homework, so he had no idea how this happened. 

He was in the middle of reading an essay, when he felt someone press up behind him. Voldemort wrapped his arms around Quirrell’s shoulders, resting his head on top of Quirrell’s. “How are you doing?”

Quirrell sighed, he was really sick of grading assignments, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. “Okay, this is just taking forever.” 

“Why don’t you take a break,” Voldemort suggested, kissing the top of his boyfriend’s head. 

“I should, but I want get this over with,” Quirrell said exasperated. He went to shuffle through the papers to see how many he had left, and got a paper cut in the process. 

“Ow, shit.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just a paper cut,” Quirrell tried to shake it off, now even more worn out than he was before. 

“Here let me see.” Voldemort reached for his hand to inspect the cut. 

Quirrell chuckled, “it’s just a paper cut, it’s not that serious.” 

Voldemort said nothing in reply. He turned Quirrell’s hand over, gently rubbing his thumb along the back. 

“So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Quirrell teased.

Voldemort laughed, still staring down at Quirrell’s hand. After a moment he said, “god, your hands are so soft.” 

“Thanks?” Quirrell replied, Voldemort sounded actually amazed by the softness of his hands. 

Voldemort unwrapped himself from Quirrell’s shoulders, moving to the chair next to him. He was still gently stroking his boyfriend’s hand. 

Quirrell took a second to watch Voldemort. He looked so at peace. Quirrell loved seeing the soft side to Voldemort that no one else ever did. 

“So, how’s the paper cut?” Quirrell poked fun some more. 

“Looks fine to me, you had me worried there for a second,” Voldemort smirked, playing along. Voldemort lined up the palms of their hands, then interlaced their fingers. 

Quirrell raised an eyebrow glancing at their now joined hands. “I thought you were supposed to be checking out my very serious injury.”

“Well I was, but your hands are soft, they distracted me,” Voldemort stated simply. 

“Mhmm,” Quirrell narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Hand holding was becoming a habit of theirs, Quirrell thought strangely. You wouldn’t hear him complaining though, he liked it, and he had the suspicion that Voldemort did too. 

——————

“You want me to what?” 

Voldemort sighed, “put your hands out, palms facing down. I’ll put my hands under yours and try to slap the top of your hands. Try to pull away before I smack you.” 

“Okay...but why?” It was an odd request, but the professor found it endearing coming from Voldemort. 

“It’s a game. I used to play it all the time, it’s fun.” Voldemort tilted his head to the side, trying to get Quirrell to play along. 

“Okay fine,” Quirrell gave in, reaching out his hands. Voldemort visibly brightened, placing his hands under Quirrell’s. 

Unsurprisingly, Voldemort won the first round. Quirrell actually looked surprised when his boyfriend lightly slapped the backs of his hands. 

Voldemort laughed at Quirrell’s confused expression. “Hey, don’t look so surprised, that’s the game.”

Quirrell’s confusion turned into determination at Voldemort’s teasing. “Hmm alright then, let’s do this.” 

They set up to play again. Voldemort won the next few rounds, but eventually Quirrell started to get the hang of it. Soon he was dodging Voldemort every time. 

They continued on this way until they were both doubled over laughing from the silliness of it all. Quirrell loved when they joked around like this. It was hard to believe they ever used to bicker when they seemed this comfortable together. 

“Told you it was fun,” Voldemort said when the laughing mostly subsided. 

“Maybe you were right,” Quirrell said mock defeated. His hands were still above Voldemort’s even though they had pretty much abandoned the game. Quirrell didn’t notice this fact, until he felt Voldemort wrap his hands around his own. 

Huh. They were holding hands again. Quirrell didn’t mind of course, but it wasn’t something they’d done often before that time in the garden. He noted that it was Voldemort that always initiated it. Interesting. He’d have to keep an eye on that.

—————

Quirrell sat in the big blue chair they kept in the living room, flicking through channels on the television. It was one of those days where Quirrell wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. 

Nothing seemed interesting on tv, Quirrell admitted with a sigh. He wished it was nighttime so he could go to bed and the day would be over.

Just when he thought his boredom would kill him, Voldemort strolled in the room, resting himself on the arm of the chair Quirrell was in. 

“Hey,” Quirrell said, beaming up at Voldemort. 

“Hi squirrel,” Voldemort said with knitted eyebrows. He looked like he was on a mission. Quirrell was curious, perhaps something interesting would happen today. 

“Can I see your hand,” Voldemort asked, holding out his own. 

“Uh, why?” Quirrell wondered suspiciously if this was going to be another thing that lead them to holding hands. 

“I want to measure your heart rate, it’s for an experiment,” Voldemort explained like it was the most normal request in the world. 

“First of all, what kind of experiment could you possibly be performing? Secondly, don’t you measure heart rate using a persons’ wrist?” 

“I’ll let you know when the experiment is over, and you can totally do it this way too,” Voldemort answered in a matter of fact way.

“Alright fine,” Quirrell gave in, putting his hand in Voldemort’s. He doubted any experiment was actually happening, but he’d humor his boyfriend anyway. 

They sat, watching tv while holding hands. After a few minutes, Quirrell asked, “how long do we have to do this?” 

Voldemort shrugged, “just a couple more minutes.” 

Quirrell turned his head away with a knowing smile. When he looked back, Voldemort was staring back at their joined hands. Then, it hit Quirrell. 

Voldemort kept making excuses to hold Quirrell’s hand because he didn’t want to outright ask. 

It didn’t make sense. They were touchy all the time, why would Voldemort be afraid to ask for something as small as holding hands? They’d been dating for over two years. 

Quirrell was pulled from his thoughts by Voldemort’s voice. “Alright, thanks,” he said, disconnecting their hands. He kissed the top of Quirrell’s head before walking out of the room. 

Quirrell sat, staring off into the distance, feeling silly that he hadn’t realized what was happening sooner. 

————— 

A few days after Quirrell’s epiphany, he and Voldemort were lying in bed, talking about nothing in particular. 

Quirrell hadn’t brought up the hand holding thing yet, he didn’t want Voldemort to feel backed into a corner, like he was being confronted. 

A silence fell over them, Quirrell could see that Voldemort was staring down at his hands. 

“Hey Quirre-“ Voldemort started, but was cut off by Quirrell grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers.

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked you know.” Quirrell said, nonchalantly.

Voldemort stuttered for a moment, his face turning a nice shade of red. “Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish.

Quirrell huffed out a laugh, “it’s okay, no more excuses though. If you want to hold my hand, all you have to do is ask.” 

Voldemort tensed, “Deal. Sorry I made up dumb excuses, I just...didn’t know how to ask without it being weird.”

Quirrell chuckled, pulling Voldemort closer, resting his head on top of Voldemort’s. “It wouldn’t be weird, silly. We’re literally dating.”

Voldemort, finally looking relieved, snuggled closer, “yeah, yeah.” 

Quirrell kissed the top of his head, before remembering something, “you owe me for making me watch a scary movie by the way.” 

Voldemort burst out laughing, “sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you somehow.” 

“You better!” Quirrell said, laughing just as hard. 

After turning out the lights and settling down, they fell asleep, hands still interlocked.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys understood the hand smacking game I was talking about


End file.
